What Goes Around, Comes Around
by Strange Principles
Summary: R,R! Chapter 2 is up: Harry is free, but will happen when Ginny tells him of Hermione's betrayal? And when Hermione finds her old friend, sees his death before her eyes... will she rethink her decision? It's better than I can summarise it, so please look.
1. Chapter 1

-1

**Chapter One - Old Faces, New People**

Hermione's Point of View

Pen in hand, Hermione looked beyond the window in her dormitory and to the pallid moon, blank and faceless in the clear night sky. The homework on her lap was unfinished and due in for the next day, but Hermione didn't care. She leaned her head against the bedpost and sighed. It was her eighth year and everything seemed to be falling in around her. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine it had all been some kind of nightmare, but immediately she opened them, reality rushed in. Dumbledore dead. Sirius dead. Her parents… dead. She was old enough now to not go to a Home, but the pain still lingered, and she much preferred the prospect of Hogwarts, that safe haven, than a cold flat trying to fight someone she couldn't see.

In her thoughts she wondered where Harry and Ron were. Ron hadn't been seen since the Summer Holidays, and she knew him to be neither dead nor alive. Mrs Weasley had been hysterical, and though there was the possibility he had gone to join Harry, all clues pointed towards a kidnap. A kidnap… with no ransom note. And as for Harry, he had left even before then leaving behind a heartbroken Ginny. No one knew where he was. And Hermione… Hermione was almost past caring, knowing they had left her without a friend. Why hadn't they asked her to come along with them? Why was she here in a cold, almost deserted castle that no longer held any warmth? Why was she sitting there with a pen seized in her hand, trying to write a note about an unruly child when she knew that whatever she did, they wouldn't learn a thing?

Hermione Granger was a teacher at Hogwarts. She hadn't applied, hadn't even asked for the job, but Hogwarts was desperate. Minerva McGonagall was desperate not to shut it down, and as the other teachers fled, Hermione had been asked to take up the position as Defence Against The Dark Arts. She knew that she hardly stood a chance. Seven years of schooling, and she'd never been able to match Harry. But it was the best she could do outside of the Order.

Harry had gone almost a year previous. Hermione knew this because she saw a vacant eyed Ginny every day, making the ritual at the dinner table by saying how many days he'd been gone away. There'd been no sightings, no news. Only a declaration from the Dark Lord himself, proclaiming Harry Potter to be defeated in their last duel. Whether this meant dead or not, Hermione couldn't say. And she didn't want to know.

Harry, Ron… even Ginny, had left her. Whether for a better place or not she couldn't tell, but she was on her own.

She looked up at the moon again, at the velvet sky, and she growled to herself.

"Hermione Granger? You're better than this. You're going to go out there, and get 'em."

**3 months later…**

Hermione was following an earlier report of a sighting of a Death Eater. In the darkened alleyways, she could see another full moon. Whenever there was one, she looked at it, and smiled; it reminded her of when she had started the chase. Now, she felt, she knew Harry's determination. She knew why he had been so determined; because there was nothing left for him, and whether there was for her, she couldn't tell - but it felt like it. And so now she was an Auror, whether the Ministry knew it or not. She didn't take the Death Eaters she caught to a higher office. Their lives ended with her. That was the sort of person Hermione Granger had become, willingly or not.

She was scared, and a little exhilarated. That had been the way for months. But it wasn't just that. She supposed you could call it… the thrill of the chase. Her eyes were bright with the fact that, whoever her quarry was, they were weaker than her. Hermione didn't need telling. She just knew. She had never thought as a naïve schoolgirl that she'd ever learn the ways of a darker life, but Hermione knew such complex, powerful spells now. Such dark ones, known only to the worst filth that walked the earth…

Hermione knew she was getting carried away with her life on the edge, with hating everyone because they'd left her, but she couldn't stop. She so badly wanted to avenge her friends that she convinced herself that she was doing the right thing. A part of her was still a trembling schoolgirl, but that had almost gone away. A feeble whisper now and then… but gone, as soon as she concentrated. She didn't care how far she fell now.

She rounded the street corner into another alley where a stray cat was yowling. Immediately it saw her, it began to purr and it jumped down from it's place on the rubbish bin, knocking it over and rubbing itself against her legs. She cursed, knowing that any slight disturbance could ruin her mission. She looked at the cat, wand out, ready to give it the final killing curse, and then she faltered. The wand was stowed away again as she picked the cat up and held it in her arms like she used to with Crookshanks.

"I'm sorry," she breathed. Sometimes, these things happened. Sometimes she stopped, and she remembered; that was what stopped her from going completely insane. She stopped, and felt a sense of hopelessness overcome her. She leaned against the wall of the house and let the cat fall to the floor; it landed on its feet and stalked away again, uncaring.

"I can't do this anymore," she whispered to the air. "This isn't me…"

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?"

She whirled around to feel the tip of a blackened wand against her throat. She recognised the voice and detested it. The platinum blond hair was the most obvious trademark, and the cold eyes. They were full of vindictive pleasure and malice; the kind of thing people might mistake for evil. But Hermione knew Draco Malfoy, and though that was her first thought of him, she knew he didn't have the mental strength or power to even begin to be given the name 'evil' with honour.

"A Mudblood on the outskirts of Suburbia, back against a wall in a deserted alley," he said idly; "a bit… daunting, for one such as yourself, don't you think?"

"You don't know what I am, Malfoy," she hissed; "I'm a whole new person, and I was following you."

"Ah," said Draco, "well, you've found me… or is it me who's found you? Tell me, just before I kill you, how it feels to be deserted and lonely… orphan… bit like Potter, really, only half as good…"

"It feels different," she snarled, "and it's made me change. You should be scared, Malfoy."

"…But having second thoughts… I heard…"

Hermione was still for a second. She gulped visibly, but her eyes were still burning bright with strength. "Do it then, Malfoy. Go ahead. Fire. I'm an un missable target, so for god's sake just kill me!"

That was the first time Draco paused. Then the wand was forced sharply against her throat, so hard blood began to trickle down her neck. For a moment, her gaze met with Draco's and held. Cold fire against dark determination… and the wand was lowered.

"No… I don't think I will."

Hermione looked at Draco in disbelief, sure her last moments would have been staring him in the eye. Then he smiled, and it held no sympathy or remorse, just evil pleasure.

"Would you like to come and see Weasel-Bee and Potter, Granger?"

**X**

**Ginny's Point of View**

_Hermione, where are you? There have been stories about you, and no one is sure what to believe. I'm not sure I want to believe. I don't believe you have it in you - and I don't mean that in a bad way. I mean it as a compliment, because when I knew you, you were full of a good determination, even after your parents died in that arson attack. I admired you, Hermione. I looked up to you because you were intelligent, and so ready to love and look at things positively._

_And now I've heard the stories, and it's horrible - but I'm so glad I'm not you, now. I'm so glad I could never become like you._

_I don't want those thoughts, but it's not my fault I'm having to suffer them. You made yourself the infamous person you are. The Ministry's not doing anything about you, because they know you are catching Dark Wizards - and where's the harm in that? I guess they just turn a blind eye to the fact that whenever you catch one, the criminal is never given to them alive. In bits, maybe._

_That's because they don't know you like I do. They don't know how wonderful you are, how brilliant. They don't know what your potential could have been and they don't love you as a friend. I've felt all of these things for you. And now you've ruined it._

_I hate you._

Ginny walked down the road, wiping the tears from her eyes, wishing that her life could be turned around and that the nightmare could stop. She hadn't heard from the brother she loved or the boy she loved in around a year now, and she couldn't help but feel hopeless. After Hermione had left school, Ginny had followed pursuit. She had gone back to the Burrow, where her family was. The remnants, anyhow. But it just wasn't the same; the spirit had gone from the house. Molly Weasley was always crying; Arthur Weasley was always out at work, and Ginny didn't blame him. Coming home to the house was like stepping into a graveyard. Fred and George were dealing with the times in a different way, trying their hardest to find new ways of defence to sell in their shop. They kept the merriness.

Ginny herself had got a job. She was a trainee Auror. She hadn't taken her NEWTS but the ministry were so desperate they had begun to recruit any willing volunteers for their work. They sidestepped actually calling them Aurors by putting 'Trainee' in front of it, but it was the same thing.

She opened the door of the Burrow and strode in. Tonks and Remus were in the Dining Room, talking to each other happily. They were the light in the dark, because they always managed to have a smile whenever close to each other. Ginny walked up to the table and sat down with them.

"Hello, Tonks. Hi Remus." She said, leaning into the table. She looked out of the window at the setting sun and commented casually, never sure whether it was a touchy subject, on whether the Professor had taken his potion or not.

"Indeed I have," said the Professor, smiling. "So, how's your day been, Ginny?"

"Nothing," said Ginny. "Nothing at all. Sometimes I wish I was chained up in a dungeon or something with Voldemort standing beside me; at least then I'd feel like I was getting results. I'm off duty for the weekend, and why not? I've got to catch up on -"

The fire roared into life and a head, that of Mad Eye Moody, appeared in the fire place. Mrs Weasley burst in with Arthur behind her, looking avidly at his face.

"Sorry to drop by like this," said his scarred, mutilated face; "Ginny, we need you. There's been a development in Ron's case. We think we know where he is and there's a chance there could be a commotion. Can you meet the normal party by the clock tower outside Demstin Alley?"

Being an Auror, Ginny had common knowledge of the streets. Mrs Weasley jumped at the mention of Ron's name. "No, Ginny," she began, "I forbid you! Think of the danger and… oh, Arthur, we have to go, too!"

"Mum, I'm not a kid anymore! I've got a job as an Auror and I intend to fulfil it. And no, you and Dad can't come with me. You're thought of a civilians, and if I invite you along with a load of other ministry members, it won't matter if you're from the Order; you'll be forbidden to enter the premises!"

Her mother gaped for a moment, opening her mouth and resembling scarily a goldfish. She was mouthing words that weren't coming out. Ginny nodded to Mad Eye, pulled her coat on again and flicked her wand. She apparated without a second glance at her family - and for once she didn't regret it. This could well be the last time she saw them, but it was the only way she'd even have the opportunity to go. She had to see this to believe it. She had to see if her brother was still alive.

The cold air in the alley whipped at her face. She fell in amongst a silent crowd of black robed people, many more than those who were in the Order. She looked to the huge Clocktower, and heard Moody's instructions with a keen ear.

"We infiltrate the place in silence. I want thirty of you to ring the tower and make sure no one escapes. A party of ten, and only ten, goes into the Tower… that is: Kingsley, Edna, me, Howard, Parvey, McMillan, Abbot, Bones, Corner and Andre…"

Ginny froze. She hadn't heard her name. Without thinking she strode up to Mad Eye Moody and glared at him. "You forgot me." She snarled, keeping her voice low. If she had shouted it would have ruined the venom anyway.

"No, I didn't, Weasley," Said Alastor, eye twirling. "You'll be outside. Can't have you causing a commotion if there's anything… nasty in there."

Ginny felt the anger rise. But she waited.

**Half an hour later**

Ginny ran from her position around the tower, resisting the restraining hands pulling her back. She flung herself at the door, kicked it open, so it fell, swinging off its hinges. She dashed tears from her eyes ran into the imminent darkness around her, determined to find her brother. Where was he? Where could he be? She didn't care for Mad Eye Moody's instructions. Blood was thicker than that, and love was thicker than blood. She ran down staircase after staircase; it seemed right. Down, not up. Up involved escape over the roofs, out of windows… suicide. A Dungeon allowed no escape.

It didn't occur to her as odd that she encountered no one in her flight. Legs and arms aching, wand trembling in hand, she ran down staircase after staircase, determined to be reunited with her brother. Finally, she came to a door. She faced it in anticipation, not fear. Was this where her brother was? The hope was too much as she pushed down on the handle slowly. Slowly was the only way to go about it. She was unable to do it fast; unable to do anything in more than slow motion. The door clicked, and without her even pushing it, it swung open unbearably fast; which was something she knew she should be scared about, even before she saw the contents of the room.

No one was in there. At least, it seemed that way - apart from the carpet of bodies. A carpet of bodies that Ginny had been with moments before, in a cluster of them. With trembling fingers she reached out to turn the head of a man she thought she knew the name of. His eyes were wide and glassy, and there was no smile on that face. He had a purple hat in his hands; and that was when it clicked. This man was Dedalus Diggle. She'd never taken him seriously… until now.

Something moved behind her, and she twirled around. Dark shapes materialised; condensed, before her eyes. She ran, through to the next room, the black shapes in pursuit of her. But as she entered the next room, she couldn't help but stop and stare at the prisoners, in crates. Packed up like one of Fred and George's order boxes. Stored close together and kept away from the sunlight like some kind of vile chicken shed. The smell was horrendous. There were so many vacant eyed prisoners, all with empty heads, filled with lies, fed by magic. She knew it to be the Imperius Curse; she'd seen the diagrams in her training to become an Auror.

Walking into the centre of the room, Ginny let herself be seized by at least five pairs of hands. The black shapes were now unmistakeably Death Eaters. She felt no terror, only a deep sorrow that she was never going to see the light of day again.

A voice hissed beside her ear.

"You were the afterthought, were you? The messenger they sent in to find out where all your other pals had got to?"

Another voice, that had a cold, almost feline quality laughed. Ginny saw the heavy lidded eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange. "Why, Crabbe… don't you see the resemblance? Red hair and freckles - a trademark Weasley characteristic. Oh, what fun! We can add her to our collection. So that makes two down, seven to go. Oh well, you have to start somewhere I suppose…"

"Get a crate ready for this one. We wouldn't want to kill such a pretty face, would we?"

"I don't know…"

Ginny suddenly snapped into life in retaliation to their comments. "Where's Ron?" She hissed. "WHERE IS MY BROTHER!"

"The kitten can roar," commented Bellatrix; "oh, don't worry, pretty little kitty; your brother's nearby, and quite safe. Of course, I'm not sure he'll be able to recognise you once you finally get to see him…"

Ginny was forced into a crouching position unwillingly. She was stripped of her wand and her dark cloak that kept out the cold. With at least six wands to her throat, she had no choice but to sit and look at her captor's eyes. Bellatrix smiled down at her. "I wonder," she said; "how long it will take for you to go insane…"

Words were muttered, and then came excruciating pain. Ginny writhed on the floor, knowing that it would never stop until she lost her mind in the inferno, which seemed such an easy thing to do. Somewhere in her brain, she comprehended the loud explosion and the white light; and perhaps even an hour later, she registered the absence of renewed pain. There was just the old. She lay on the floor, unaware of the rubble that piled on top of her. Unaware, completely of the two bodies lay beside her. She heard conversation: and finally, she opened her eyes.

What she saw nearly made her close them again. For there, wand pointed at Lestrange's neck, was an unmistakeable figure, thin and gaunt after almost a year of captivity - but with eyes that burned and twinkled with hate and hope.

"You leave off her, Bellatrix, or I won't have a choice."

"How…"

The figure sneered. "You're not what you used to be. Face it, Lestrange. You're never going to be Voldemort's favourite again, not now. Not after letting one of your prisoner's escape by leaving a wand on the floor. Careless. And now, you're going to get out of here peacefully, with all your little buddies over there, and say to Voldemort that I'm back. And you make sure you tell him that, to the letter…"

Ginny looked wide eyed at the Death Eater's tied up in the corner of the room. With a flick of his wand, the figure made Bellatrix join them; and then he flicked it again. The motley group vanished. Ginny tried to get up from the rubble, tried to say something, but there was only tears. She cried as he helped her up. There was a clicking sound as all of the cages, piled high, were opened. The figure patted her on the back in an almost embarrassed way.

"It's okay, Gin. We're… getting out of here."

The door opened, and they departed, followed by an array of dazed looking men and women and children. Ginny couldn't help feel relieved. She hadn't found her brother. But she'd found something just as good, and she felt like half of her missing heart was being re-stitched, back into her body.

"I can't believe it's you…"

**Author's Note: Hope you like this rather long first chapter! Hermione's point of view will be next chapter which should be written next Saturday, as I can't do the weekdays as I have SATs. Which sucks. But anyhow, please review. I hate it when I realise my story's had loads of hits, and people who enjoyed it just could - not - be- asked to review. Even if you hate it, that's okay. Just tell me why you hate it… that'll be fine. **

**I'm going to develop Hermione and Draco much more next chapter. I realise it might be at least a few chapters till they finally admit something, but it should be getting more exciting as it goes, especially now I've introduced our newest, nameless character of whom I'm sure you can guess the name of.**

**Now, another comment: please read my 'The Sky Is Crying' story! I was infuriated when I realised I only had two reviews, because I literally TOILED over that piece of writing. Also, Hogwarts World of Worried Wizard Folk Grade Seven is also good, as is Summer's Child. Those are my best, and if you feel inclined to read them, please do… but if you do, be sure to review. PLEASE!**

**Thanks,**

**Strange Principles… or SP!**


	2. Sands of Time

**AN: Before I write this I'd like to clarify that this particular story IS Hermione/Draco, but is slightly Hermione/Ron - you'll see why. And no, it's not a triangle thing. And no, the relationship won't have developed yet between Hermione and Draco, but we'll get a hint, I think. Due to the fact I haven't completed this chapter yet, as I always write notes before I start the writing, we'll see when I write the note at the bottom of the page.**

**Hermione's POV**

**Flash back**

Hermione looked into the man's face, mistaking the pure terror for arrogance, fooled by that sweaty mask of anger. The man was visibly shaking, but Hermione refused to see it. She refused to let herself admit it was a normal, terrified man that sat before her bound to the chair. She looked in his eyes, and part of her trembled with fear. What was she even doing? Why was she in this cold, dark room, her wand out at a helpless foe? Her hand was shaking, but in her heart, she knew why she was here. She was trying to prove a point. But even deeper within, she knew it was wrong. The main instinct, it just… wouldn't let her stop.

"You're just a scared little girl, Mudblood," said the man, his eyes darting to her trembling hands. Hermione shook her head, her throat tightening. He was no better. Death Eater scum, filth of the world. Half the reason why most of the wizarding world was in uproar. He had even once attempted to kill Buckbeak - and if that wasn't a cause for justice, Hermione didn't know what was.

_Just let him go; he's harmless. Let the ministry take him in, Hermione. He's… not worth it._

And then, almost comically she heard another voice. It reminded her of countless cartoons she had used to take pleasure in watching. No flicker of amusement passed through her now.

_This thing was involved in the killing of your parents, Hermione Granger. What are you, some lifeless statue that just stands under the shelter of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley? Waiting for their command, just so you can obey and come back, and wait again? For god's sake, they're dead. They're all dead. He has blood on his hands already, and you need this revenge._

Hermione didn't know what to do. She had come here, so self-assured, dealt with Macnair so easily, and now the moment to strike had come, and she was the victim; immobilised, struck down by simple indecision. In the darkness of the room, she trod over the broken glass, towards the chair where he was bound and wandless.

"It would be wise to not call me such names," said Hermione. She had to buy herself time.

The man sneered. "I was there, you know, Mudblood. The night your parent's house caught on fire? I wonder, I wonder if you used to sit in bed thinking it might just have been foolish cooking, or the gas being left on. No Dark Mark, so how could it have been Death Eaters? Well, that would give it away. Sometimes… we like to keep you guessing."

"Shut up," warned Hermione, putting a hand over her ears, trying to squeeze out the voice penetrating her thoughts. She couldn't, wouldn't believe it. She already knew, but…

"I remember, your father tried to protect your mother. And then, your mother screamed the loudest. No Dark Mark. No need, the fire killed them. I'm innocent."

"Shut up!"

"Like you're going to do it, little girl. You're trembling."

Hermione shifted the wand in her grasp and closed her eyes. One more word, and her fractured nerves would be sent flying. She wouldn't be able to cope. She tried to black them out, but when she next opened her eyes, his words were still going, drilling into her like sharp knives, hot and unbearable.

"And then, the Potter kid. Easy. Weasley… the most you'll ever get from him now on is a murmur, maybe a broken stare. There's nothing to fight for. They're _dead."_

_Stop it…_

"I remember seeing the bodies…"

"STOP IT!"

"They were burnt, but if you looked close, you could still see the terror in their eyes."

Something snapped inside of Hermione and she turned away, wand flashing out, and before she knew it the words had left her lips, and green light flashed. The green that had haunted Harry Potter's night mares, like he had once said. And when Hermione next looked, the man was lying in the chair, slumped, eyes glazed and mask on the floor. He could be seen for his true, vulnerable self.

Hermione didn't feel any different, and the voice inside her heart that spoke softly of remorse and regret was swallowed up. She didn't feel any different. She was still just as empty as she had been before, just as angry with the world. One death wasn't enough. She would claim them all.

The old Hermione would have looked back at the body and sobbed before turning herself in. The new Hermione, ruthless and twisted with loss, the very Hermione Macnair had helped to shape, looked back at the body, and strode out of the empty room into the street.

**End Flashback**

**Hermione's POV**

Hermione gasped for breath and stumbled onto the floor of the dark, tiled room, trying, gasping for breath, having just realised the unpleasantness of side-long apparation. Malfoy's fingers never loosened their vice like grip on her arm, and he didn't drop her wand. It seemed he was quite used to doing this. There was an almost maniacal light in his stony eyes, a pleasure that Hermione realised, sickened with herself, had been reflected in her own many a time.

"Where are we going?" She gasped as he hauled her up forcefully, deliberately being brutal.

"I'm reuniting you with your family," Malfoy grinned maniacally, his face twisted with the maddened grin. He shoved her through the gates of what looked like a large church in the middle of nowhere, its only inhabitants the watchers in the graves that slowly slept beneath the earth. She was used, almost as a barge, to knock open the doors, where she fell over again onto the carpeted floors of the grand church. But all around her, it didn't smell like a church. No… it smelled more like a crypt. And when Hermione looked up, she not only saw crates stacked precariously along the walls like prison cells, she saw the bodies strewn across the floor.

"So this is your life, now. Death, and coldness; you don't have a heart Malfoy. I always thought there might just be some good in you, but I was wrong, wasn't I? You _are_ your father…"

"And if what I have become is cold and dead, what have you become? Macnair, Avery, Nott; all the work of the infamous Granger - their mangled remains found weeks after the murder was committed. You might say, Granger, that we are the same."

His voice was steel, and it was steel that made sense. It told Hermione exactly what she was, as if he had looked right through her and was still searching, trying to find exactly what drove her. For a moment she couldn't breathe. The same expression on her face as on Malfoy's. Twin expressions. Mirror twins…

…No.

"I am nothing like you, Malfoy," she spat, rising up from the floor. "I was driven by loss because of what happened to people around me - you're still just a jealous little boy!"

Draco growled. "Have it your way, Mudblood. Come with me."

Hermione didn't have a choice. She was dragged by her hand, still halfway on the floor, stumbling along, until she came to the ruined remains of an organ. Behind it were the platforms where a choir might once have sung, but no more. Now, staked were driven through the planks like knives through flesh and on them hung bodies. Bodies she recognised.

"Ron…"

Almost unrecognisable through layers of dirt and blood, Ron Weasley was hanging limply on one of the staves, clothes torn. They were clothes he'd been wearing when she's seen him almost a year ago… or was it more? And he was still the same old Ron. When she spoke, his head rose, and regarded her with vacant eyes, incapable of speech. A bubble of blood rose, but nothing more.

"Oh my god… what the hell have you done to him, Malfoy? What the hell have you done?"

Malfoy smiled again coldly. "Weasley is never going to speak again, Granger," he said, and waved his wand. An hour glass appeared in his hand, only half the proper amount of sand that was supposed to be in it in there. "I wanted you to watch. I always knew you liked him, and I decided this would be the best way to go about showing you just what you missed this past year, before I kill you. You see, when I tip this time glass, Ron Weasley is going to… die…"

Not a pause for sadness. A pause to emphasize those hot, truthful words. Hermione opened her mouth and no sound came out. All this time, she had envied him - hated him! Now here he was, almost dying in her arms. She looked at Malfoy, every fibre of her knowing she couldn't stop him. She couldn't move if she had wanted to: he had frozen her near Ron, and she could only watch as the hour glass tipped. The sand began to fall.

"A minute, Granger. The screams should start… now."

Hermione heard the screams, and looked at Ron, who for a moment looked as dead as he had before; and then those eyes lit up with life, and he howled. Hermione sobbed with him. The first ever love of her life howling in agony - and she'd never been able to tell him.

"Ron, I'm here, Ron… Ron, no, stop it…"

His eyes were going straight in her, and she saw the relief of her being there, and she reflected it. If she could, she would have taken his hand; but she couldn't. The tears fell down her icy cheeks and he saw them, but she couldn't tell him. Not when it was most important. She couldn't express the joy of having found him again, the hurt of having to lose him for the second time. She couldn't even imagine to express those feelings she had once felt as a confused schoolgirl amidst a world of demons.

The minute ended, and the screams died. His eyes closed and in the deafening silence, Hermione heard herself say:

"I love you, Ron Weasley…"

But it was too late. Always too late. Always, always too… darn… late. He'd never hear those words. She's never see his open eyes again. She didn't even notice freedom of movement as she sank to the floor sobbing.

**Draco's POV**

There she was, sobbing her heart out over the body of Ron Weasley, and Malfoy found he didn't want to see it. He didn't care for her. He wanted to hurt her, hurt her as much as he could for the deaths she had caused, for the years of outsmarting him. Maybe it was pathetic; a school time grudge - but Draco just wanted to live up to his father's expectations. He wanted to show him how he was just as good as the Mudblood - how he, too, could make her scream…

Flinging her against one of the deserted pews, he whispered into her ear, feeling her icy cold face scrunch up in fright.

"Did you enjoy the show? Did you enjoy seeing the light leave his eyes? Enjoy knowing, that if you hadn't been looking for me tonight, you could have prevented a death? The death of someone you were close to?"

He stood up, but he didn't stop the venom from washing out of him in tidal waves of spiked words.

"That hurt, did it? Ron Weasley, complete bastard. That's what you do, Granger, and that's what I do. We do that thing. We watch, and we walk away. We are the same."

Draco could tell she didn't want to hear it, so he kept on, leaning over her and quietly whispering harsh words to her, until she rose up again, ready to take the new tirade.

"Draco Malfoy. I hate you so much, you couldn't imagine. I hate me so much, you couldn't imagine. I hate the world for what it's done, and what's more, I'm not having it. This road is dark and it doesn't even make it better; it's treacherous. Now you've just shown me I can't do this and that there probably is a better place somewhere else, so for god's sake, just do it. However you'd like, just kill me. I don't want to go on anymore - I don't want to! I don't deserve to! And neither do I deserve this kind of life!"

Draco stepped backwards. Everything she said made perfect sense, and the little boy in him laughed and said 'no - I'm not killing you, because I know that's what you want.' The older Draco had matured slightly. He raised his wand, but again, he could not bring himself to end her life. A Mudblood dirtying his thoughts. Shameful…

He didn't even care for her. He hated her, loathed her with a passion. But that fact didn't make him feel any more inclined to kill her. Instead, he opened her closed eyes with his fingers, and took her arm again. He didn't know what he was doing, but this wasn't the end for her. He had more surprises in store.

**Ginny's POV**

_If I look out of my window now, I can see a light. I suppose you could say it would be Harry - but it's not just yet. There IS a tiny bit of light left in the world, and if Harry is alive, who is to say Ron isn't? I walked back with Harry. I talked, and then was silent. I listened, and then we were both silent. And a lot of things have been mended; broken hearts are being fixed, slowly but surely. Everything… the world, for me, has come back together._

_I look out on the streets, though, and wonder where you are, Hermione. I've got Harry now, and I'm filled with a new determination. I wonder what drove you to such measures, and I wonder what it was like to lose so many people around you. I could ask Harry, but he's still with us. He's pledged revenge, but for a good cause. I don't know what you're fighting for, but it isn't good. You lost all human, good contact with my world when they found that body in the cellar, terror still in its eyes. I can't even think of it without a shudder. I wish nothing had ever turned out this way, but can't you see? Wishing just never works. I tried, months ago. I counted the days Harry and Ron were gone in some hope that once in a while, whenever it hit a specific day, they'd come back, as if materialising from nowhere. It didn't help. _

_And now, they came back. But only because I follow a path in the light._

_It sounds ever so… mythical, almost fantastical, saying it like that. But the fact remains there really is no other way to describe that life you lead. You really must be dead inside._

_But me? I've got Harry. And hopefully, I'm going to see my brother soon, too._

_It's going to be wonderful. _

**Harry's POV**

Harry walked into the garden of The Burrow, and looked up at the dawn. It had only been hours since his arrival back into the civilised world and they had gone so fast; so much had happened. The feeling of relief and jubilance in him spread rapidly, but as fast as it did, it was swallowed by emptiness and… remembrance. He recalled the time of his capture. In the cage, he'd only had time for the happy memories. Outside the cage, it was all he could think of.

_Flashback_

_Harry leant against the walls of the cage as he the long procession was fielded into the house like cattle. It was the first time the box had ever been moved, only a day since Harry had fallen into the hands of Lord Voldemort and he didn't know what was happening. All around him he could feel the dead eyes of the other captives, their eyes boring into him. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. He had been their only hope - perhaps, in their cages they had thought of how perhaps that boy was going to bring an end to their suffering. And then, next they knew, the all famous celebrity - that shining hero - was carted among them beaten and broken. And then, what was there to live for?_

_The guilt of this, mixed with the pain of the Cruciatus Curse from the day before, was almost too much to bear. He wanted to close his eyes and drift off. Dying deliberately would cause too much of a stir - people would think he was giving up, and that was more terrible than he could imagine. But dying in a box, unaware of the wizarding world, equal to those among him, Harry thought he could manage it._

_He wasn't going to, though. He wouldn't allow himself such a lease from life. It was hard - it was going to be hard - but there were better things in life. Things worth fighting for. And even though Sirius, his parents, Dumbledore - even though they'd been taken away from him, there were his friends. He didn't know if Ron was still alive, but he was a friend worth fighting for - and so was Hermione. Mr and Mrs Weasley, who never denied him kindness. And… then there was Ginny, who he wished to see more than anyone. He could concentrate on her, and it made the surroundings seem less oppressive, the darkness seem just a lighter shade of darkness._

_He'd tried to destroy the final Horcrux, and at least he knew where it was - but how could he have known Voldemort was ready and waiting? But no. death was too good, said the wise lord. He'd be treated like the others. And then death… if he was lucky. Was Voldemort finally understanding the words Dumbledore had spoken to him all his life? That there really were worse things than death?_

_Even if he did, he couldn't understand. He might take heed of those words and try and think of worse things, but they had no meaning. How could he understand about love, and friendship, and dedication? The only thing Lord Voldemort loved was himself. The only thing he dedicated himself to was his own cause. His only friend was himself. That didn't show any of the depth, or the meaning, of any of those words._

_And there lay his weakness. But Harry hadn't known how to work that to his advantage… not then. But after weeks, and days in captivity… he began to understand. He began to think._

_So a year later, Harry Potter's spirits, though weakened, were stronger than the others in the cage. Most of the ones he had been brought in with had died. But Harry was ready, so when a red-headed girl came in and flooded him with determination, he would do anything to end the nightmare of it all…_

End Flashback

Harry sat on the overgrown garden bench, and looked up. The sun was actually shining - if only a little. He was warmer than he would have been, too. Somewhere out there he'd find Ron. Sometime, he'd try and find Hermione. The only thing was, whenever he mentioned her name, Ginny froze… just for a second. And then she carried on like she hadn't said anything. He already knew Ron was missing - but why the silence whenever he said 'Hermione'? Now he was free, everything was on the shoulders of Harry Potter again - and he didn't care. He needed to know these things because he knew that if he didn't, he'd never forgive himself.

Ginny came down the garden to sit next to him on the bench. It was funny, because apart from walking home with him she'd kept her distance, as if she was wondering whether he wanted to be on his own. In a way, he did want to be solitary. But… Ginny was always an exception.

"Are you okay, Harry?"

"I'm fine, now."

There was a small silence in which Harry tried to gather himself to ask again about Hermione. But again, Ginny read his mind.

"You know, earlier, you asked about Hermione? I didn't answer. I didn't think you'd want to know the answer, her being on of your best friends…"

Harry's hand tightened on the arm of the bench. "She's not… is she?" He couldn't say the word. Couldn't muster the courage.

"Dead?" Ginny gave a shrill laugh. "No, nothing like that. It's… in a way, I think it's worse. Are you sure you want to hear this?"

Harry nodded up at the sky again. Was it just him, or was it darker?

"Hermione. She ran away from Hogwarts, you know. They asked her to come back for an eighth year - they're still going, even with all of this. They wanted her to teach, and she did. She was good. And then one day, she just ran away. I was worried for such a long time, and then, about two weeks after her disappearance, someone found this… body in a cellar. A Death Eater, just left there to decompose - tied to a chair. What with all the uproar, even the muggle services have been given knowledge of the Wizarding World - they'll be wiped if this is ever over - but their muggle forensic evidence pointed straight to a Miss Hermione Granger as the murderer."

Harry didn't respond. Ginny's emotionless speech had turned his inside to ice. Hermione… capable of…? The bookwork who was his best friend? One of the 'Golden Trio'?

"I didn't think it was true. I mean - Hermione. Anyway, she's far too thorough to leave fingerprints and all of that lying on the body of the victim, or the things around. But she was in a hurry, she was scared - maybe. Wouldn't that explain it? Anyway, I still had my doubts. I wouldn't let myself believe it. And then, about a week later, there was another. It was much more subtly done, but they found a hair at the scene of crime. And with muggle technology - and the appropriate spells, that was found to be Hermione's, aswell. I don't know why she's been doing this. It's terrible, Harry. How could she manage it? The Ministry have been turning a blind eye because as far as they're concerned, she's doing their job, if in a disgusting way. They can't track her either, not a witch like her."

"It… she can't…"

"It's true, Harry! She may be good at heart but something's driving her. Something, maybe all the losses she's suffered - her parents - maybe that pushed her over the edge - but there's no doubt. It IS her. She is the murderer, and it can be proved a thousand times over."

Harry sat up fiercely, hand shaking. "Then we have to find her," he said. "Her and Ron. We have to show her that there's a better way. Someone's got to stop her, because that isn't the real Hermione!"

Ginny looked at him for a second, and then she smiled. "And I can come with you this time?"

Harry thought briefly. He didn't want to put her in danger. But then he returned her smile - he only lived once. She only lived once - and he'd enjoy this more with Ginny at his side. "Okay," he said. "Pack a bag."

XXXXXXXXX

Sobs were heard as someone came up the stairs. The heart broken sobs of Mrs Weasley. Ginny looked at Harry, puzzled - she had been packing clothes into a bag. The sun was setting, again. They had to leave quickly. But even so, her mother was upset. The door opened just as she tried to open it.

"Mum -?"

"He's dead, Ginny, he's dead…"

Ginny looked scared as her mother collapsed into her arms. Harry approached, unsure whether he should be there. But Mrs Weasley would say no more, so he had to question.

"Who's dead, Mrs Weasley?"

"They found him in a Church, tied up. They found another hair there, too. Hermione Granger's. I can't believe it… can't believe she'd do it… and I let… her in my house…"

More choked sobs.

"Who…?"

"Ron. Ron's dead, Harry; Ginny. My little Ronnie!"

Silence; dead silence. And then tears.

The world was upside down again.

_**Author's Note: this being Angst, I'm sorry. I couldn't allow a happy chapter. There will be one soon. This was vaguely happy, in the middle, don't you think? Anyhow, please Read and Review. Thanks. Luff you all!**_


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